Dark, hot Coffee as bitter as Life
by Offwithyourhead00
Summary: "Slowly, she takes a deep, painful breath, and turns her head towards their visitor – if she can call him so. She even finds the strength to manage a smile." Very slight Lucissa. I apologise in advance for any mistake.


Nothing of this was fair; of course it wasn't. How could it be fair? She had never asked for it. She had never asked for anything at all and yet _he_ had given her everything.

She didn't ask for suffering. She didn't ask for the fear and the hatred. She didn't claim to see her family broken, destroyed beyond any hope of healing. She didn't ask for the sadness and the tears. Or the guilt. But yet, _he_ was making sure, every day, every hour, every _minute_, that she would have a reason for suffering. That she would cry her eyes out every night, when she was laying alone on her bed, not even willing to hold back her sobs. Somehow, she thought that everyone deserved to hear how much she was hurt.

Some nights she thought it would be all for the best if she had the courage to put an end to her days.

* * *

She watches as Lucius takes another sip of his coffee. Dark, hot coffee, without sugar, that's how he likes it. Bitter. Bitter like life.

He's reading a newspaper, his face grave and impassible. She doesn't dare to speak, or even to try to catch his attention. She's noticed, at the way his brows are frowned, that he's in no mood to be disturbed.

So she keeps silent, drinking her own coffee. She can guess that in a few hours _he_'ll be here, if he isn't yet. They've lost every single right they had on their own house. No longer can they talk of the Malfoy's Manor, but of the Dark Lord's headquarters.

Then she hears it, the soft sound of a door opening, and she knows _he_'s here. Her heart stops, and her hands are shaking so violently that she almost drops her cup of coffee. Panic gets the best of her.

For a few seconds she meets Lucius's eyes. He doesn't dare to look at her for too long and almost shyly look away from her, but she doesn't need more. Slowly, she takes a deep, painful breath, and turns her head towards their visitor – if she can call _him_ so. She even finds the strength to manage a smile.

* * *

"I'm dying! I'm fucking dying, can't you see it?! And damn, _he_ is the death of me!"

Draco's voice breaks at the end of his sentence and he violently turns his head away from his mother, not willing to let her see his tears.

"Why didn't he kill me last year anyway? I should have failed him purposely, so I wouldn't…"

"Don't you dare say this, Draco Malfoy!" screams Narcissa, drawing her son close to her, furiously blinking her tears away. "I forbid you to say this, do you hear me?" She bits her tongue to choke back her sobs, but the tears, such as a merciless wave, such as a seawall yielding under the power of the sea, runs down her cheeks, leaving burning, cruel, salted marks on her skin.

She holds her son tight, trying to find comfort in his embrace, but she ends up crying harder and harder, until her throat and chest hurt like hell.

"Please, don't say this."

* * *

She's not even scared when she meets his eyes. She doesn't hesitate, doesn't flinch. She looks straight into his eyes and say "Dead".

And she's lied. And never has she lied with such sincerity, with such confidence. She looked right into Death's eyes and lied, without feeling any twinge of fear. She knows she's doing the right thing. Which other option was left to her anyway?

And now she hears his screams of joy, she sees him laugh and dance, and she thinks of the moment he'll understand; and she is looking forward to this moment. The moment he'll realise she isn't just a slave like all the others and that she, somehow, still has a bit of bravery left within her.

Silently, she gets back to her husband's side, her eyes never leaving _his_ face, watching him with an intensity she can hardly conceal.

She knows the worst is yet to come. She knows she may be the cause of her whole family's death; but for a few minutes, she doesn't care about it. For a few minutes all she can think about is her lie. Her victory over the Dark Lord. A victory that taste as good as love itself.

But then Lucius's fingers tenderly squeeze hers and the usual fear comes back, suffocating her. And she follows the Dark Lord's army on its way to the castle, and she can feel her heart beating so loud she's sure everybody around her can hear it. And the wind on her face, and her husband's soft and loving grip, and the laughs around her remind her she may lose everything soon.

But once again she finds the strength to walk on.

* * *

**Well well. I don't know what I feel about this one. I'm not particularly happy about it, but I thought that you guys might enjoy it. Anyway, any criticism or praise would be really, really loved! :)**

**Love you all, Sarah. xx**


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